


Mulled Wine

by balfrey



Series: revery [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancing, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balfrey/pseuds/balfrey
Summary: Haven finds itself overflowing with wine, and the whole village gets together to party. Sera and Isla dance. Isla and Solas have... a moment. Varric and Solas have a frank conversation.





	Mulled Wine

The tavern had become much too warm.

Isla had joined the party early, sitting with Varric and Sera, playing cards as the wine flowed. Whoever had supplied the drink -- some Orlesian noble -- had delivered enough wine for the whole village. The music grew louder as they all drank. It had been a long time since Haven had let loose.  
Isla shifted on the bench. She had shed much of her outer layers in response to the heat of the room, wearing leggings and a short shift dress meant for sleep. Varric had been teasing her relentlessly, threatening to call her Pajamas. 

Isla looked over her shoulder, scanning the room as Sera hummed to the music.

“Looking for someone?” Varric asked, a sly smile on his face.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Isla replied, smiling back.

“Let’s all have a dance, ya?” Sera crooned to the group of musicians, pulling Isla off of the bench, “Oi elfy, you dance, c’mon.”

“I’m not sure I know any shemlen dances, though,” Isla replied, tentative as Varric laughed at her shyness.

“Oh, it’s eeasy,” Sera cried, pulling Isla into the group that had started to stomp in the middle of the room, “all you gotta do is follow what I do!”

Sera was right. The dance was a mess of limbs and laughter, but the majority of the group knew the steps, leading those who didn’t with ease and strong spins. The room continued to fill around them.

They had gone through several versions of the dance, and just as many mugs of the wine, before Isla felt well and truly drunk. Her lips, stained dark red, tasted sweet as she laughed. Sera was leading her through a two person quick-step, exuberant and bordering on belligerent. 

“Elfy, you drunky?”

“What-whatever do you mean,” Isla crowed, a sarcastic rebuttal ready, “I feel -”

Isla stumbled once as Sera pulled her around, and with a quick glance over the smaller elf’s shoulder, Sera grinned malevolently before repeating the spin and releasing her into the crowd.

Isla almost shrieked as she careened into a solid mass, steady hands catching her before she face planted. 

“Fenehdis,” she whispered, giggling madly as she looked up, but --

Solas gazed down at her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waifish frame, a rare and shameless grin spreading across his face. 

“Careful, Da’len,” he said quietly, righting her on her feet. He did not release her.

“Ir abelas, hahren,” she grinned back, small fists clutching at his chest. 

“No need to apologize. Even great leaders need their fun, and I take it you found the wine as palatable as I have.”

“And how long have you been palata-pal... how long have you been here, then?”

“I have been sitting with Varric this past hour. You were otherwise engaged.”

Their eyes locked, his warm breath, sweet like the wine, brushing her face. Her head spun. Oh. 

Solas cleared his throat before releasing her, keeping his hands on her shoulders as she swayed slightly. Much too close, he thought, the stain of her lips dark like - No.

“I should get back to the game,” Solas said, trying to focus on her eyes instead of the bead of sweat perched above her lips, “Perhaps you should sit as well.”

She blinked, recollection of where they were hitting her. She took a step back, a smile following the creep of pink up her face.

“Perhaps,” she replied, her voice quiet. 

\--

Across the room, Varric hid his smirk in the mug, making a mental note to break out his writing materials later that evening. He had been watching the two elves for weeks now, but this was the first time he had seen the apostate blush so spectacularly. He told him so as Solas sat back down.

“Perhaps it is the wine. It is a normal response. I am surely not the only one with flushed cheeks.”

“True, true. We could fry an egg on our lovely Heralds face.”

Solas smiled softly, taking a sip from his fresh mug of wine, but said nothing.

“You could have asked her to dance. I think she would have said yes to you. You may have noticed that she does not let just anyone stand so close to her.”

“Another time. I have had too much wine, I think, to remain a perfect gentlemen.” He cleared his throat again, frowning slightly at the admission.

Varric’s smile widened.

“I would ask you how long you’ve carried the torch, but I think I know the answer.”

“I… I would appreciate if this could stay between us.”

“Certainly, Chuckles. No one will hear of your infatuation from me. But if you want to keep it a secret, you may need to work on your poker face when she’s around. I fear I am not the only one who’s figured it out.”

“Ah,” Solas glanced around the room, the only notch in his composure the persistent blush under his placid expression. “And whom should I fear disclosure from?”

“Sera seems to have orchestrated the earlier, ah, encounter,” Varric said with laughing eyes, “though I doubt she’s aware just how deep the water goes. She mostly just likes to tease little Moony over there.”

“How deep the water goes?”

“Ah, c’mon. I’ve seen the way you look at her. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

Solas paused, looking over the rim of his cup at the dwarf beside him.

“It would not be proper. She is too young for me.”

“She is a woman, as you are well aware. Old enough. That’s a shit excuse and you know it.”

“The Herald of Andraste, a Dalish elf. Can you imagine the talk… with an apostate? No. I cannot pursue it.”

“Whatever you say, Chuckles,” Varric smiled sadly at him. 

A flurry of limbs cascaded onto the bench across from them, Sera and Isla laughing uncontrollably as wine sloshed onto the table.

Isla, normally graceful, misjudged the location of the bench and fell, hard, onto the ground. Sera cackled, slapping the table.

“Maybe we should get miss Moony off to her bed,” Varric said, just loud enough for Solas to hear. “I’ll handle Sera if you can handle the herald.”

Solas pursed his lips but nodded. If it was going to be either or, he knew where his preference lay.

\--

The fall had taken her breath away. She was still dazed when Solas came around the table and scooped her into his arms.

“What’s this,” she slurred, turning her head to look at Varric.

“We’re cutting you off, darlin,” he said, smirking again as Solas carried her away, “Sleep well!”

She tried to reply but they were out the door and into the cold before the words could form.

“Solas,” she said, giggling slightly, “Solas, you are touching me again.”

“Yes, well,” he said, watching his feet as he stepped down the icy stairs, walking towards her hut, “you’ve been doing an awful lot of falling this evening. This seemed to be the fastest way to get you to bed.”

“Get me to bed, eh? Are you-” she hiccuped, “Are you trying to get me alone, hahren?”

He refrained from answering, hitching her higher as he opened her door.

She giggled, unable to stop, pawing at his chest with her fist, holding tightly when he lowered her onto her bed.

“Hmmm bed,” she sighed, stretching slightly as she kicked off her boots, “Not to worry, my dear hahren, I am already wearing pajamas.”

“I see that,” he replied, tongue thick in his mouth as he tugged the covers over her.

Her eyes were on him, watching as he tucked her in.

“Don’t go,” she slurred, face unreadable.

“I should not stay here.”

“It’s not like we haven’t slept tog-” she stopped, “slept next to each other.”

“In a tent, in camp, as a necessity, da’len.”

She mumbled incoherently, frowning slightly as her eyes closed.

“I did not catch that, Isla.”

“I said,” her words quiet and sleepy, “that I like your mouth, Solas.”

He did not answer. Her hand held his.

Her breathing slowed, and he was surprised by how quickly she slipped into sleep. He lifted her hand to his face, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist before standing up to leave.

Fenedhis.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a larger work that will eventually be pieced together chronologically!


End file.
